poemsofsplendor

Jehan listened to Enjolras. They loved how he sounded, the way his features lit up when he talked about something he enjoyed.

It was beautiful.

They found themself moving towards that beauty, leaning forward in their chair.

Until they were pressing their lips against his.

:: { ℑ⋅ℇ } ─ ─ ─ ::

        He’s in the middle of sharing
      a story, a moment during his
      weekend at the soup kitchen that’s
      not funny per se, but he enjoys
      the work, he feels accomplished 
      and he wants Jehan to know.

                        Or he did until Jehan kisses him.

         Enjolras does not move, not
      for a while, blue eyes wide open
      and colored surprised. His hand
      reaches up and curls into their
      shoulder to put a little distance
      between them. “That wasn’t quite
      what he did but good guess.”

                   He’s calm and yet– not at all.